


Starmap.

by shinysableye



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, its mostly just a dumb drabble about my oc lol, the no archive warning applies is just what happened to create hydaelyn, theres a little implied zenos/wol and emet/wol but otherwise no real relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:55:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21518527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinysableye/pseuds/shinysableye
Summary: "The stars above your head, child. They tell you many things. The past, the present, the future- And they will always lead you home."This is just a silly drabble I've been meaning to write about my OC, Ambrose. Features a lot of spoilers for Shadowbringers in varying degrees. If you read this, thanks!





	Starmap.

Someone once said the stars will always guide you back home.

It was a dream he always had. Flecks of white on ink, something that wasn't snow, that wasn't the freezing cold. They were always there, in the back of his mind, waiting for him to look, just look at them. They were like stars, hundreds upon hundreds of them, watching him. The sort of comfort they gave him was soft, like a warm blanket, or the food the lady in the restaurant he now slept outside of brought him. 

She was kind. Everyone he had met since leaving Coerthas had been. They treated him like he was a person, and not a creature, a monster. Even barely knowing many of them, he loved them. He cared about them, how they felt, how their days went. Perhaps it was just instinct, something that still lingered from when he was young, when he still could think for himself. 

He woke to the cold of a morning breeze, nothing in comparison to the blizzards of the north. Stretching a hand out in front of him, crystal colored eyes watched his fingers extend, contract.. Yes, they were his own. Somehow, he was himself. At times, it was hard for him to be able to tell. Where was the line? Where did it blur, where did it end? 

Breakfast came hours later, when the sun started to poke past the cliffs more clearly, the brilliance of oranges and reds painting the skies in their vibrance. He could almost touch the paint with the tips of his fingers if he reached out far enough. 

When breakfast was over, it was time to pack up his bedroll, moving along to aid anyone he could, and try to put a smile on their faces where he could. His own smile had been robbed from him long ago, unlikely to return- But fragments could be handed off to those who's smiles were broken and difficult to mend. 

\--

They came when he handed out flowers, a duo of adventurers who complimented his politeness. When they tried to learn more on the boy, he ran off, basket in hand. Another attempt as he was stacking shelves, and another where he was mopping the floor made them realize that they needed a better plan.

Their target was calmly skinning apples on one of the gates, watching as birds passed his view of the Crystal Tower. A symbol of Allagan ingenuity, and equally one of the power they held. Just was Ambrose was, in a strange, twisted manner. In a way, they were siblings. One in the same, yet so wholly different. Perhaps he would understand the shining tower in the distance one day.   
Perhaps it was simply waiting for him.   
His fangs sunk into the apple, tearing a chunk of the sweet flesh as he watched the tower more closely, as if memorizing it. How many secrets were within? Perhaps it contained a way to make himself more of a man than.. Whatever he was. Or perhaps there was someone, something waiting behind those doors that truly was just like him. His eyes drift to the side, to Midgardsormr, Keeper of the Lake, as the people here called him. Did he know of his children? Of Ratatoskr, of Bahamut? One day, the boy hoped to ask.

When he came down from his perch, the group went from two to three. Now a Lalafell approached him, picnic basket in hand. He recognized her, from the stores in the main market. The trust was immediate, taking the box with gentle hands, the pawlike pads brushing against her skin for a moment. They all sat together in the boy's usual spot, and shared food. The talk around him was lively, full of their joy, eagerness to share it with each other, and with him. Just being around them, the joy was infectious. It had to end at some point, however, and as the sun disappeared past the cliffs, they left him behind. He put down his bedroll, and began the nightly routine of curling up in his blanket.

That night, he dreamt of somewhere else, surrounded by the face of people he didn't know, yet did. One among them stood out, yelling, but muted. White hair flew everywhere, a face from the shards he had seen before.   
"We were going to bring back our brethren, those who sacrificed EVERYTHING for us!" The words came booming to his ears, and he realized he was not himself. His ears were wrong, his hands were wrong, robes covered his form. "Do you really think we could ever bring them back, you dense fool?! They're gone, and there is nothing we can do to change it- What you've done is created a monster that will not stop until we are all killed!" He hears his own voice. He doesn't understand. "Then what have you made? Something not akin to Him? She is just like Him!" The aguing continued, Ambrose starting to run, trying to escape the voices, now surrounded with hushed whispers. So many masks, so many people- Then a light came. Screams, pain. It was as if he were being torn apart.

\--

A cold film of sweat coated his body when he shot up, too awake. Was this a vision? Something he had to remember? Should he remember at all? His knees pressed against his chest. 

When his newfound friends came back, he told them nothing of his dreams. Instead, he began to open up in other ways; namely, what he called himself. Ambrose, the name of a hero in a book he'd read, now long forgotten in the snows of Coerthas. Ambrose divulged very little, but it was enough. Enough that the group could extend a hand, suggesting him as a new member of their adventuring group. They would be leaving for Gridania, within the Black Shroud, and Ambrose would be able to sign onto the Adventurer's guild there.

He took that hand.

Now three made four, they headed off, reaching a halfway point before deciding to make camp for the night. Ambrose stayed off to the side, even after everyone had gone to sleep. Those same crystal colored eyes fixated on the stars above, the shine making his eyes glitter like the tower in the distance. He wanted to touch them some day. Reach to the stars, and grasp one of the little lights like a firefly. 

The dream was of himself, this time. He was older, battle hardened. He had been adventuring for a long time now, his axe held in a stance that only worked for someone of his strength. Before him, across their dirt arena, surrounded with the remains of man and machine, was a man fully clad in armor. But inside, he was no more than one of the red masks from his last dream. There was a spot on his mask where the armor had been broken away, exposing an eye that pierced into his very soul. "Get out of his body." His voice, now matured, growled. His opponent laughed in a manner too cruel to truly describe. "And why would I ever listen to a pest such as you?" 

The clash came swiftly, axe to sword, and he felt how he held himself, but in the end, faltered- A splitting headache, a voice from beyond that was familiar, yet wasn't. 

Then flashes, faces, an inky abyss filled with the reflections of people, pulling him along, their calls, their begging. 

"Weary wanderer,"  
The voice from the last dream echoed.   
"No fight left to fight."  
Ambrose found himself suffocated by the darkness.  
"No life left to live."

\--

A piercing scream wakes the entire camp, Ambrose huddled into a ball, shaking, terrified. It takes a combined effort to get him to cry on them, clinging tight. They hold him, tenderly, caring where no one had for ages. It was foreign, yet welcome all the same. He missed home. His family. His friends, but they were gone. All gone.

The journey continued, and Ambrose followed. They arrived, he signed on, and more joined their group. Four became five, five became six. They loved him, and he loved them back. The dreams didn't end, however. In fact, now, he knew that something inside him was calling out, reaching a hand for him to grasp in turn. After weeks of watching, waiting, he took the hand.

"Ambrose.. Ah, how you've grown." Himself, yet.. Not him, stood just a fulm away. The world around them had turned white, yet didn't glow.  
"You have a long path before you. Full of traps and hardships.." A soft hand brushes against his face. "You've been through so much already, but this isn't over. It won't be over for a long time. Soon, you will have to grasp your destiny." The other him stops, standing again. He towers over him, more than anyone Ambrose had ever known. "You have the makings of a hero. Whether you become one or not.. That is entirely up to you. But no matter what, I will be here." Poking his chest, his counterpart smiles brightly. "I will always, always love you."

And then he was gone, taking the dreams with him.

Ambrose's newfound family fell apart only a moon later, slaughtered, just as before. This time, however, Ambrose was grown. No longer a terrified child, he could stand on his feet.

Now he stood under a star filled sky of his own doing, piercing through everlasting light.  
He would follow them home, back to a shade of where his story truly began.  
Where he would see a face, hear a voice more familiar than it should have been.  
And a fate he had brought himself.

**Author's Note:**

> i kind of wanted to add more flashbacks, but at the same time, adding too many would probably just be going overboard. i dont know how i even got to 3 pages worth of words


End file.
